


Masterpiece

by TheCityLightShow



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, Loki Interferes, MTF Pepper Potts, MTF Steve Rogers, Smut, Stephanie Rogers - Freeform, mentioned Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanoff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 06:23:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8317246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCityLightShow/pseuds/TheCityLightShow
Summary: They sway more than they dance, but Tony's smiling up at her like he can't believe it, and Steph doesn't stand on his foot once. The song changes, but they don't break apart, and Tony takes the lead now, leading her through the steps of a dance she doesn't know – but for Tony, would be more than willing to learn.She laughs when he dips her, and nearly stumbles when she stands again. Tony's grin is breathless, and she can't help but tease, “See something you like, Mr Stark?”“Very much so.” And this time he gives her a sweeping glance, carefully sets the hand he's holding on his shoulder, so that he can gently lift up the pendant she's wearing. “You look like a masterpiece in my colours.” his voice drops a little lower, and Steph wraps her arms a little tighter around his neck. “Beautiful... regal... untouchable...” he continues, and this- this is the last piece of Tony she's been waiting for, been hoping for – the charmer, the seducer, the gentlemen-that-isn't.
   Or, how Steph got to be herself, and fall in love with Tony Stark in the process.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This... this is not what I intended when I set out to write it. I finished it at 2am on Monday morning having not stopped, and found it had run away with me. Evidently, at two in the morning the phrase "Write until you get uncomfortable" has little meaning. The things University has done to me...
> 
> Regardless, I'm pretty happy with it. Enjoy!

She'd always called herself Stephanie in her head.

She'd always known that it wasn't right – that she was a he, was _Steve_ , but it had just never sat right, never fit. So in her head, she was Stephanie. Steph. Stephie.

She'd hoped the serum would prove that she _wasn't_ wrong, wasn't sick in the head and make her outside match. Instead, it had made her even less like she wanted to be, and it sucked. Massively.

At least on the USO tours, most people called her Cap and not Steve.

She tells Bucky, just once, and after when they're alone he calls her Stephie, not Stevie. Bucky doesn't think she's sick. Doesn't think she needs to be carted off in a straight jacket. Just calls her doll when he can't call her Steph, and doesn't change their friendship. She's immeasurably grateful, but can't ever find the words to say it.

  


Bucky falls, Steph crashes the plane, and Peggy Carter never finds out the man she loved wasn't a man at all.

  


The twenty-first century grates on her nerves. It's loud and it's crass, and it's _lonely._ Howard Stark's son is an asshole, the Avengers team that she's expected to lead is a shambles, and people _keep calling her Steve_.

It later turns out that Howard Stark's son – she should probably call him Tony – isn't that much of an asshole. In fact, not-that-much-of-an-asshole invites her to live at the “clubhouse” and for lack of anything better, she accepts.

At least in the tower, with the shambles team that she has a feeling she's going to love, she mostly gets called Cap.

 _Fuck,_ does she miss Bucky.

  


Despite all evidence to the contrary, Stephanie is not a morning person. She'll wake up at 6, without fail, every day, her new-fangled bastard body done with sleeping, but she'll lay there for as long as she feels she can justify. She carries on dreaming, pretending for a little while that she _is_ Steph, and that it's not wrong – wasn't ever wrong – and that there's curves and a softness that she _just doesn't have_.

So when she trails into the kitchen at ten in the morning, she's not awake enough to note the topic of conversation, only the people having it. It's not an uncommon set of people – Tony, Natasha and Pepper often sit around the communal floor kitchen to talk, whether it's business or pleasure or ' _Tony, what did you DO?'_.

She pours herself a mug of coffee, turning in time just to hear Pepper say, in a rather fucked-off tone, “My parents _still_ insist on calling me Peter, like I haven't been out for nearly six years.” Steph freezes, not understanding, because in a perfect world that means-

“Is it my turn?” Tony asks with a glance at Natasha, his eyes hard, and she's glaring too but shakes her head as Pepper rolls her eyes.

“Tony, you can't threaten my parents again-”

“Why not?” Tony growls, and jesus, Steph has never heard him sound so mad. “If they can't accept you're a woman and not the son they believed they had, then they don't deserve you.” He stops, and grins suddenly. “I could re-purpose the wrist band?” he asks, and Steph can't even bother to question what the wristband _is_ , because Pepper was- Pepper is-

Pepper's a girl, who used to be called Peter.

  


Pepper's a girl, who apparently used to be somebody's son.

  


She's- she's _like Steph_.

  


Steph drops the mug.

“Woah, Cap! Are you okay?” Tony exclaims, jolting back in his chair as the mug hits the floor. Natasha is suddenly studying her, and Steph feels too hot under the collar of her shirt, can't do anything but nod. Tony sees Nat's expression and suddenly understands.

“Did- did no one tell you about Pepper?” He asks, but then he barrels on without an answer, “it's not going to be an issue, is it?” And there's the hardness back in voice, and Steph quirks the tiniest smile she can manage, before shaking her head.

“Not at all,” and her voice is shaking as she carefully steps over the cup like it's not there, “If you'll just- excuse me.” Is all she can mutter, and practically flees for the elevator.

  


She makes it to her bedroom before she lets the panic well-up, begging Jarvis not to let anyone in, and god it's like being swallowed up by the cold of the Atlantic all over again. She's not sick. Because if Pepper's not sick then Steph isn't sick and god- Pepper is gorgeous, one of the prettiest dame's Steph's ever seen... can she be like that, too? Is that an option for her? They told her attitudes had changed in the future – she knew about the leaps and bounds made in rights for women and gay people and black people – but they'd never mentioned...

“Steve?” The voice cut through Steph's thoughts and she can't help the flinch. “Woah, okay- are you- can I help?” Tony asks softly, and Steph can't even be mad that Jarvis had let him in because he crouches in front of her, simply concerned – no judgement in his eyes – and Steph just pitches forward, rests her head against his chest. Tony's shocked, she can tell, but he carefully rubs her shoulder like he doesn't know if it's allowed while she cries, and eventually she chokes out, “'m not sick.” Tony's rhythm stutters, but he goes back to it almost instantly.

“What do you mean 'sick'?” he asks carefully, and Steph pulls back a little, takes in the cautiousness on Tony's face and she can't think about the consequences, her chest will burst if she doesn't tell _someone_ -

“If Pepper was Peter, then I can be Stephanie, right?” she asks, oh so quietly that for a moment she doesn't think Tony heard her. He blinks, hard, and then stops balancing on the balls of his feet, landing heavily as he sits down opposite her and smiles.

“So that's what the scene in the kitchen was about?” he asks kindly, and Steph can only nod. “Did no one talk to you about LGBT?” Steph shakes her head, and Tony sighs tiredly, but his smile doesn't drop. “I'll ask Jarvis to give you some things to read, okay? And Pepper will always talk to you. But you're not sick, Stephanie.” And god, he doesn't even stutter over the name as he gently takes her hand, and Steph knows she's crying again, but she's smiling too, and god, she's _not sick_. Tony wrinkles his nose, but Steph doesn't have time to panic before he says, “Okay, not that I don't like Stephanie, Cap, but can I call you Stephie? Stephanie is too many syllables.”

“Oh god, _please_.” It slips out desperately, but Tony just squeezes her hand a little tighter.

She's going to be okay.

  


The team accept her easily, Tony holding her hand the entire time she explains, and she finds herself at the bottom of a hug-pile. It's mostly courtesy of Thor, but Clint's yammering on about make-up colours, and Bruce offers to help look into _transitioning_ , because that's something she can _do_ now. They still call her Cap, but they also call her Steph and Stephie (and Steph-a-roo if you're Clint, apparently) and while they warn her the rest of the world won't be so kindly, Steph has never felt so _light_.

She starts letting her hair grow out, and the first time it tucks behind her ears and stays there, she doesn't stop grinning all day.

It turns out Clint was a make-up artist once – the circumstances of which he won't reveal – and he teaches her how to do any make-up she might ever wish to. It feels like an achievement, and the look on Tony's face when she wears red-lipstick outside of her floor for the first time is utterly priceless and just as flattering. It's a steep learning curve of practicality and self-discovery, but Natasha and Pepper are there every step of the way with the answers to her questions and her worries.

For all those big moments – like the first time she buys herself a pair of pumps, her first skirt, heck, even her first _ponytail_ – Tony is there, proud as punch, solid as a rock, and the greatest friend Steph could have asked for. He still buys her presents and makes her toys like he does for them all – and they're still just art supplies and armour upgrades. He doesn't change them to be classically feminine gifts, doesn't even try, and god, Steph loves him for it.

  


Well. She just loves him, period.

  


The public, however, can go fuck themselves.

  


There's a lot of people who show their support, and just as many who find bravery in her story to be themselves – but nobody spits vitriol like the media, and _Jesus_ , the team had not been lying when they'd told her the world would not be as kind.

For the most part, Steph can ignore it. She has to cut out jogging in an evening, and she misses the Dodgers when they come back to New York to play the Yankees, and she _still_ hasn't tried the food from the Thai place down the road that doesn't do take-out, but she can ignore it. Admiration still pours in, the Avengers still win battles, and Stephanie's still Steph. She spends her time in Tony's lab, sketching the genius and his bots, and letting the man himself use her as a test subject for some of his projects. He takes her on a world-tour of music and film, and honestly, Steph forgets the world outside the two of them exists in those moments. In the curve of his smile, the gestures of his words and the spark in his thoughts, she wants nothing more than to just _be there._

What she can't ignore, is civilians ignoring her orders just because she is who she is. That, that's just ludicrous and insane and _happening right now_.

  


“I'm not listening to an abomination like you!”

“Look, lady, you may not like me, but you and your family are going to get seriously hurt if you-” Steph's almost-pleading gets cut off by an explosion down the street. It's probably one of Clint's arrows – when it's Loki playing the game, the archer tends to get a little trigger happy – so she's not overly worried, but these people just won't _move_. She sighs, and speaks into her comm. “Can someone come make this lady move? She's not listening to me.”

“ _What?”_ the venomous reply doesn't come from the comm's like she'd expected, and Steph whirls with her shield raised, glaring at Loki as he stands in the street, green and gold and _angry_ like Steph has never seen him in all the times they've fought him. The people Steph was trying to get to move look suitably scared for their well-being with the trickster god stood right there, and it takes a moment for Steph to realise that Loki's anger is directed at them. “ _Why_ , Captain, are they not listening to you?” he asks, and Steph simply raises an eyebrow at him.

Loki looks her over, at her almost shoulder length hair around her face now the cowl has been misplaced, at the suit Tony designed for her with just a little more curves in the way the kevlar armour curls around her, and seems to reach a decision. Just like he'd done in Stuttgart, he lets his armour fade away, the helmet disappearing and he glares again at the family behind Steph before directing his full attention on her.

“Would you like me to help with that?”

  


_Tony was_ _**seething** _ _. People ignoring orders intended for their safety, just because Steph was_ _**trans** _ _? Apparently, people were more stupid than he thought._

“ _I have a clear shot, Cap, just say the word.” Clint's voice drifted over the comm's, and Tony sped up trying to get to Steph's location – Loki had disappeared with Steph's request, and Tony was more than a little nervous about it._

“ _No, don't.” Steph's voice replied. She continued, clearly talking to Loki; “fix what?” Tony rounded a corner and stuttered to a stop as he watched Loki gesture to Steph as a whole._

“ _Make your outside fit your inside.” he explained, and Tony couldn't help but think it was a trick, a trap, but Steph's face_ _ **lit up**_ _, and she nodded, an agreement barely past her lips before Loki did- did_ _ **something**_ _, and Steph was lost behind a bright light. Tony staggered forward, hearing Clint's panic on the comm's but not responding to it, seeing Loki disappear and take his monsters with him but not truly noticing it._

_The light died away as Tony reached her, and he stalled, coming to a frantic stop less than a few steps away._

  


Steph wakes up at 6am like she normally does, groaning and reluctant, and she curses yet again her internal body clock. No one in the tower will be up yet, not post-battle, so she leaves her eyes closed and rubs a hand across her stomach to sooth the itch-

Steph sits bolt upright so fast that even with the serum, her head spins – and she assumes she still has the serum, but this isn't the body it had given her. The memories came flooding back, and she realises what she'd accepted, what Loki had _done_. She scrambles up for the mirror, absently noting she's a couple of inches shorter, and gasps when she sees herself there. She's slimmer, but still muscular, still taller than most but not as tall as she had been, her hair is the same but so much longer, and she has- she has the right _parts_ , dear god, she's _her_.

She can't help but grasp her breasts – because they're real, they're really real and-

  


She is finally, _finally_ , Stephanie Rogers both inside and out.

  


“J-Jarvis...?” she asked, trailing off at the sound of her own voice, lighter and higher and _hers_.

“It is five in the evening, Captain Rogers.” The AI answers, sounding pleased, “And the team are gathered on the common floor awaiting your arrival.” Steph nods jerkily, grinning at herself in the mirror.

“Thank you Jarvis.” She replies, and then stalls as a thought strikes her. “Do I own anything that fits?” She asks, blushing despite the fact it's only the AI there to hear her.

“Agent Romanoff has left you an outfit she feels will be to your liking in your bathroom.”

Steph grins to herself, and in a rare moment of lacking modesty, doesn't even wrap herself in a towel to duck across the hall into the bathroom. (She'd fought Tony for it, a non-en suite, and she looking back loves how much he'd been scandalised by it.) The outfit that had been left out for her is a pair of Natasha's black jeans, underwear that was clearly newly ordered, and a soft blue t-shirt. She dresses quickly, stalling over the bra and how on _Earth_ she's meant to fasten it, and standing there in front of the mirror, she's never felt so _alive_. She doesn't have socks or shoes, but it hardly matters as she steps out of her bathroom and almost runs for the elevator. She's excited, and nervous, and might not forgive herself for owing Loki – but she can't regret her choice when _this_ is the consequence.

She steps into the elevator, the cool metal pleasant under her feet, and wordlessly it began to ascend. She bounces on the balls of her feet as the elevator climbs, and is thankful for the pause Jarvis gives her between coming to a halt and opening the doors.

The entire team and Pepper have gathered, and all of them turn to look at her as she steps out onto the common floor. For a long moment, no one says anything, until Clint breaks the silence with a quiet “holy shit”. Steph doesn't try to stop the laugh that bubbles out – more of a giggle than anything else, and lets it grow as Pepper dashes forward to envelope her in a hug. Steph hugs her back tightly, and there are tears in both their eyes when Pepper pulls back without letting go.

“I'm so happy for you.” Pepper whispers, grinning, and Steph just ducks her head. Natasha's grinning when Steph finally looks up, standing up to say something when Thor steps past her, picking Steph up in a hug that nearly breaks her ribs – and crushes her chest, _ow._

“Lady Stephanie! You look most wonderful!” He exclaims, setting her down again, and Clint wolf-whistles his agreement with a cheeky grin, making a bright blush spread across Steph's cheeks in the same way it always had. Bruce hugs her too – which Steph hadn't expected from the normally reserved scientist – and then there was just Tony.

Tony, who was still staring at her.

“Shellhead?” she asks nervously, and Tony blinks himself out of his head, scowling at her with no real conviction.

“That was a stupid thing to do.” he tells her, and Steph blinks, hard, not sure how to take that. “If Loki had-” he stops, and shakes his head before smiling at her. “It paid off though.” Steph nods, and smiles, but some of her elation is dying away, confused by Tony's reaction.

Tony seems to realise this though, and he stands up, walking over to her. He carefully takes her hand in his, just like he's done so many times before. “You look beautiful.” he assures her softly, barely a whisper. “You look like you,” and he lifts her hand to press a gentle kiss to her knuckles. He smiles at her then, just for her, soft and warm and blinding, before stepping back and excusing himself.

  


Steph had been hopeful that more would come after that small kiss, but it never did. Life in the tower fell back into their usual patterns without thought – although Natasha and Pepper dragged her out to buy a new wardrobe more than once, and Tony teased her endlessly as he designed her a new suit. She's had to practice using the shield much more than usual, because the muscle memory is still there, but it seems bigger to her now – not by much, but enough that she needs the extra practice.

Interviews were added to her line-up now, and the world seems happier with Stephanie Rogers when she looks like this. Leaps and bounds are suddenly being made, according to the media, and yet Steph just wishes that they could've been made before. She returns to her jogging, Tony takes her to lunch at that Thai place down the road – it tastes so good after waiting so long – and the entire team vacate the tower to go see the Dodgers play. Steph has finally found her footing, her place in this brave new world, and yet... she's still missing out.

Clint _has_ suggested she take her new found confidence and go out on a date or two (or ten) but she doesn't want to. Dating random people holds little appeal for her – she's still, like she'd told Peggy all those years ago, waiting for the right partner. Clint suggests she could go out and look, but doesn't bring it up again. He understands, she thinks – although she's not exactly subtle.

She wants that partner to be Tony – but their lunch dates aren't dates, their hand-holding is nothing more, and Steph's endlessly frustrated with it.

  


It comes to a head at a Maria Stark Foundation Gala, four months, three call-outs and 18 lunch not-dates later. Steph had actively participated in the gala for once, feeling confident in the dress that Natasha and Pepper had helped her pick out – a long, sleek, cherry red gown, accented with golden jewellery and a bright blue circular pendant that Pepper had told her made her eyes pop. She knew what they were doing – these were _Tony's_ colours, and if he doesn't make a move after this, Steph will run out of patience.

She's passed from conversation to conversation throughout the night, keeping up with the intense scrutiny of the socialites that question her with little difficulty, and enjoying the eyes she can feel following her around the edge of the room as she avoids the dance floor. Tony had nearly choked on his drink where he'd been stood talking to Rhodey when he'd seen her first, and has barely taken his eyes off her all night. She catches his gaze across the ballroom again, grinning as he ducks his gaze with a private smile. It's the smile she's caught in the mirrors of the workshop, out of the corner of her eye when he thought she couldn't see – and she can't wait any longer. She excuses herself from her current conversation, and doesn't allow herself to be drawn into another as she makes her way across the room to him.

“I'm sorry, do you mind if I borrow Mr Stark for a moment?” Steph asks the people whom he's talking to, but doesn't wait for an answer, already hooking her arm through his to lead him away. “Thank you.”

Tony grins up at her once they're away from the group. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Stephanie?” he's teasing her, but there's a genuine curiosity beneath it, and that gives her the last bit of confidence she needs.

“Dance with me.” The shock is plain as day on Tony's face, and the smile he manages is shaky.

“I thought you didn't dance, Cap.” he replies quietly – and she doesn't usually, refusing anyone who asks her to. Steph smiles, slips her hand down from the crook of his elbow to lightly grasp his hand as he continues, “Waiting for the right partner and all.” She realises then, that it's not a case of reciprocation, but of Tony not believing that he’s worthy. She makes a note to talk to him about it later, a serious conversation that may or may not result in therapy for the both of them, but for now...

“I'm done waiting.” she tells him, and internally delights at how she can hear Tony's heart-rate pick up underneath the thrum of conversation in the room. “I've found the right partner.”

“Steph... you could dance with anyone here.” _Could have anyone but me_ , and Steph simply shrugs and squeezes his hand.

“Maybe. But I'd like to dance with you, Shellhead.” Tony's eyes go wide, and it would be comical if Steph wasn't suddenly so nervous. He takes a deep breath while hers catches in her throat, and then- squeezes her hand back. As if on cue, the music changes to something slower, and Tony leads her onto the dance floor.

They sway more than they dance, but Tony's smiling up at her like he can't believe it, and Steph doesn't stand on his foot once. The song changes, but they don't break apart, and Tony takes the lead now, leading her through the steps of a dance she doesn't know – but for Tony, would be more than willing to learn.

She laughs when he dips her, and nearly stumbles when she stands again. Tony's grin is breathless, and she can't help but tease, “See something you like, Mr Stark?”

“Very much so.” And this time he gives her a sweeping glance, carefully sets the hand he's holding on his shoulder, so that he can gently lift up the pendant she's wearing. “You look like a masterpiece in my colours.” his voice drops a little lower, and Steph wraps her arms a little tighter around his neck. “Beautiful... regal... untouchable...” he continues, and this- this is the last piece of Tony she's been waiting for, been hoping for – the charmer, the seducer, the gentlemen-that-isn't.

Steph grins at him, and leans forward to whisper in his ear. “And what if I don't want to be untouchable?” She pulls back, and is pleasantly surprised to see Tony's cheeks dusted red. His pupils are blown too, and he grins at her like she's something he can have, with all the love she's seen when he thinks she's not looking, and she knows he's not backing down from this now.

“I know 40s dating morales are different...” he teases, and she gently pinches the back of his neck, making him laugh. “But if I were to suggest an early departure...” he trails off, a little of his hesitance returning, but she smiles brightly at him.

“If you don't take me home, Stark, I'm going to feel awfully put out.” She grins when he laughs, and then he's tugging her gracelessly off the dance floor – she doesn't see any one else on the team or Rhodey or Pepper as he leads her to the main corridor and out of a back door, and she doesn't much care. Happy's waiting back there in the limo the team (minus Tony and Pepper) had arrived in, and while he's surprised to see them, he grins and gets the door for them, the partition going up as he climbs back in.

Steph squeezes Tony's hand again, and his grin is almost blinding when he smiles back at her. It's hard to keep her hands to herself, but they're almost back at the tower and this is already the greatest night of her life so far and she doesn't want to break the spell.

Happy pulls away before they're even in the tower, probably to collect the others, and the private elevator is as empty as always. She leans back against the railing as Tony asks Jarvis for the penthouse, and holds her hand out in invitation when he looks back at her. He takes her hand, lets himself be pulled against her, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear with a grin. “May I kiss you, Miss Rogers?” he asks, and she holds his gaze even as she can feel the blush creeping up her neck. She doesn't answer, instead closes the distance between them to finally feel those lips against her own.

Tony kisses her back slowly, hands sliding across her back and down to her waist, pulling her closer as he gently presses back until they both need to breathe. She kisses him again before he can pull back completely, and Tony goes up on his tiptoes to press back this time, grinning into it.

They both jump when the elevator doors open, and Steph can't help but laugh as Tony walks backwards so he doesn't have to let go of her yet. He kisses her once more over the threshold, this time holds nothing back – he kisses like a wild fire, making every nerve ending in Steph come alive, and she feels _loved_ , more than she ever has in her life. She gives as good as she can in return until the burning in her lungs is more than a little pressing. She steps back and slips out of her heels, and now they're closer in height, Tony doesn't need to lean up quite so much to kiss her this time. She pulls him back in by his tie – a shade of red so close to her dress, she suspects Pepper might have played a hand in his outfit – and gasps when Tony moves his kisses from her lips to her neck, his hands drifting lower. “T-Tony.”

Tony kisses her again with a satisfied grin, and she unties the knot as he does. His hands a searching for the zipper on her gown, and she catches his wrist gently. “Careful.” she warns him, smirking at his frown. “I'd like to wear your colours again.” She elaborates, and Tony's answering kiss is fierce.

“You can have a whole new wardrobe in red and gold-” Tony tells her, and she laughs, leaning in to kiss the grin off his face. “-god, you took my breath away.” he admits, and she remembers his face – but it's nothing compared to how his gaze rakes over her now. She feels hot under his scrutiny, and she drops the tie to the floor.

“Bedroom.” she tells him, and he nods, but doesn't move back. She rolls her eyes at him and lets her impatience get the better of her as she picks him up, bridal style.

“Y-you can still pick me up?! That's so- so unfair!” he protests, but there's laughter in her ear, and then there's kisses against her neck, her collarbone and she's none-too careful in setting him down so she can kiss him again.

His vest hits the floor and she's fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when he finds the zipper of her dress at last. He doesn't tug at it though, and when Steph finally gets him shirtless, he whispers “turn around” against her lips.

She complies, and Tony's fingers are soft and burning hot against her back as he sweeps her hair over her shoulder, and slowly pulls down the zipper. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck, trails them down her spine as he finishes the zipper, and Steph can't help but moan at his touch. The dress falls to the floor as he steps away, offering her a hand to step out of the dress. She'd blushed simply putting on the matching lingerie earlier – dark red and smooth satin against her pale skin – but thanks the heavens she'd gone through with it. There's no pause now as Tony grasps at her waist to pull her close again, kissing her like the world is ending and this is all he might get. He cups her ass and squeezes gently, and she moans into the kiss, gently biting his lower lip.

His hands tighten momentarily on her hips, and she cups his face in her hands, kissing him with all the love and all the frustration she's felt over the last few months. He gets the message, she thinks, because she's laid back on his bed now, and he's shucking off his trousers as fast as he can. The loss of the last of the suit leaves him in nothing but tight black boxers and she can't help herself from blushing as she takes in every piece of him hungrily – tanned and scarred and lit up in the soft blue of the arc reactor humming softly in his chest.

He kneels at the end of the bed for a moment, and she reaches out to pull him down into a searing kiss, and pushes herself up to carry on trailing them down his neck when he has to pull back for breath. She kisses wherever she can reach, presses one to the arc reactor, and that's Tony's hands in her _hair-_ “Steph.” He tugs gently, and she sits up, kissing him back when he kisses her deeply, before he's gently pushing her back down. He's grinning down at her, clearly enjoying the sight of her laid out underneath him, and she reaches for his hands without thinking. He shifts forward so that neither of them are straining with it, straddling her legs in the process, and he meets her gaze with a nervous smile.

“I- are you sure?” he asks, and she squeezes his hands.

“Never been more sure.” She promises, and the last bit of tension drains away. He leans down to kiss her, resting on his elbows and taking her apart slowly, piece by piece. She twines her fingers in the longer hair at the nape of his neck as he kisses down her body, setting a torturous pace, and tugs lightly when she can't help but need more. He nips lightly at the top of her breast, sucking a light mark there above where her bra sits before carrying on, and it's so much and not enough and he's carrying it on in a pattern as he goes ever lower, a pattern that she hopes to God is there when she gets to a mirror in the morning like a “property of Tony Stark” on her skin.

He stops for a moment, and she looks down at him only to be met with a devilish grin as he takes the edge of her panties in his teeth and pulls them down. Steph lets her head fall back with a moan, and though Tony has to use his nimble fingers to finish the job she can't complain when he continues the trail of marks where he'd left off, kissing and nipping and sucking at the inside of her thigh. Her hands must be painfully tight in his hair, but he doesn't stop, kissing closer and closer until he pauses long enough to look up and catch her gaze. She can feel his breath against her burning skin and she needs him, needs him to- “May I?” he asks in a tease, and Steph growls and can't help but twist her hand in his hair. His breathless laugh turns into a moan at the action and he kisses her once, twice, and then gently pushes her legs apart so that he can _lick_ her-

“T-Tony-” she gasps, and the genius carries on, delving his tongue into her, deep and warm and _fucking fantastic._ “Tony, please-” she's not sure what she's asking for, but she knows that Tony will give it to her, trusts him with her in ways she'd thought impossible. Tony kisses back up her body in a series of quick open mouthed kisses, one hand gently stroking her shaking legs as he reclaims her mouth again. She moves her hands to cup his face, kissing him desperately and tasting herself on his tongue. She kisses along his jaw, and gives him a mark of her own behind his ear and down his neck that has him moaning something delightful. She relishes in the noise even as he pulls back out of reach.

“What do you want?” he asks, holding himself above her, just far enough away she can't lean up to catch his lips.

“E-everything.” she tells him. “All of it.” and Tony growls as he kisses her again. He pulls back only far enough to talk this time, each word ghosting across her lips.

“Where do you want to start?” he asks instead, and when she takes a moment to answer, he rolls his hips down against hers, cock hard and leaking in his boxers. “Come on, baby.” he teases, and she can barely gather herself enough to glare at him, but he just grins wider. She pulls him down, leaves his lips the barest amount from her own, and tells him;

“I want you to fuck me, Tony.” His breathing hitches and she kisses him briefly, letting her hands drift down his back. “I want you to _own_ me.” Another kiss, and her fingers trace the fabric-skin line of his boxers. “I _don't_ want to be able to walk tomorrow.”

Tony stops her wandering hands before she can succeed in getting his boxers off, pinning them above her head as he kisses her possessively – she'd going to get what she wants, she knows it, and she feels a pleased laugh bubble up and makes no effort to stop it. He grins back into the kiss, and only lets go of her to scrabble about in his beside drawer. He comes back with a condom and a little bottle of lube, and she pushes herself up to take the condom from him. He arches an eyebrow at her, but she merely tugs at his boxers and uses her teeth to open the packet. He rushes to oblige, and Steph's breath catches at the sight of him finally naked. She kisses him again, and he finally unhooks her bra and tosses it away, hands instantly going back to grasp and squeeze and Steph's moaning into the kiss and pressing closer, Tony's cock trapped between them. He shifts to grasp at her hips as he bites at her lip, holding her as close as he can, skin to skin from lips to hips and still not close enough.

He takes the condom from her to slide it on, and she automatically licks her lips as she watches, feeling the heat in Tony's gaze as he watches her. He pushes her back against the bed, not giving her a moment to adjust before taking both of her wrists in one hand and pinning them above her head, while the other hand opens the bottle with a snick, and that's so soothingly cold against her skin, warming quickly in the heat, and then-

Tony pushes one finger in slowly, first to one knuckle and then sliding deeper, watching her as he does, and Steph wants to hold his gaze but he pumps his finger once, twice and adds a second and Steph would like to thank whoever might be listening for the serum and how much she can feel _exactly_ what Tony is doing even as she throws her head back and moans when he twists his fingers inside of her. She feels his lips at her neck as he scissors his fingers on the inwards strokes and then adds a third, and tugs at the hold he has on her wrists if only to feel the resistance. “You look wonderful, Stephie.” he whispers into the hollow of her throat. “All stretched out and gasping for me.” He kisses her jaw softly, and shoves his fingers in a little rougher, making Steph moan. “You feeling good, baby?” and Steph can only nod.

Tony pulls his fingers out then, and Steph _whines_ at the loss, eyes fluttering open to look at the man grinning down at her. “Gotta use your words, cupcake.” he teases, and she has to lick her lips before she can speak.

“Feels- feels real good. Tony- please-” Tony smirks and waits as she tried to find the words to finish, “Please, fuck me- hurt me, love me, Tony _please._ ” She's begging but she can't care when Tony's irises are barely a ring, his eyes dark as he stares down at her. He lets go of her wrists and laughs as she pulls him roughly by his hair into a kiss. He positions himself at her entrance, but doesn't push in and Steph can't wait any longer. She wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him closer – he sinks into her, so much more than his fingers and she's burning up from the inside, full and loved and _Tony's_.

“ _Jesus.”_ Tony's breath comes out in a rush against his lips, and he rests his forehead against her shoulder, breathing already shallow. “God- Stephie- beloved-”

The endearment makes Steph moan loudly, and she tugs at his hair. “Please, darlin', Tony, fuck me-” Tony finally shifts and it's like a tidal wave crashing down. His first few strokes are slow and measured – careful, so she wraps her legs a little tighter and pulls him up into a kiss so she can growl out against his lips “I told you to _fuck_ me, darlin', I ain't a flower”. Tony pins her hands above her bed then, and kisses her, shoving into her harder than he has yet.

“Patience is a virtue, Stephie.” He tells her, but any retort she could hope to come up with it lost as Tony sets a new pace, harder and faster, and it's taking her apart and filling her up and she can't help but clench down, rock back onto it, Tony's moans rewarding her, his kisses like the prize she's trying to win. She's on the edge of pain and pleasure, and she just wants more in both directions, and Tony's kiss is biting as her nails rake down his back, and he's fucking into her hard, just like she wants.

The heat in her gut that's been building all night – been building since she _met_ the man – is almost at the surface and she needs- she needs-

Tony bites her neck where he's already left his mark, and Steph is seeing stars, eyes rolling back and crying out Tony's name as she comes and comes, Tony following her over the edge, his rhythm going to hell with her name on his lips.

  


It takes a couple of minutes to come back down from such a high, and when she does, Steph finds that Tony's already wiped them both clean with a soft wash cloth, and is now laid on his side next to her, smiling happily. She lazily reaches up to kiss him, and when she pulls back he lies down against the pillows. She presses a kiss to his nose, just because she can, and laughs when he scrunches it up adorably. She finds his hand next to hers and squeezes gently, receiving a gentle one in return, and a laugh when she squeezes again.

She's tired, and knows she's going to fall asleep long before she wants to, so she kisses Tony softly and lets her head fall against his chest. “Love you.” she says, and is asleep in the light of the arc reactor before Tony regains his wits enough to reply.

“Love you too...”

  


Steph forgets for a moment where she is in the morning, but a slight shift as she rolls makes her hips twinge and the arm around her waist brings memories flooding back pretty quickly. She grins to herself.

Their legs are tangled together, foreheads rested together, and Tony's arms are around her waist, holding her as close as he can in his sleep. The clock reads 6 am, just like she expects, but she''s more than content to just lie there. It doesn’t take long for Tony to wake up after her, and she watches as he blinks himself awake. For a moment, he seems surprised to see her there, before he grins sleepily and leans that little bit forward to kiss her, morning breath be damned. She raises an eyebrow in question when he pulls back, and he shrugs. “Thought I'd dreamt it.” he admits, and she kisses him again. “Shower?” he asks.

“Sounds good.” she replies softly, and he kisses her nose before shifting away to get up. She stands stiffly and laughs quietly as she walks to Tony's bathroom aching in the best way.

“What's so funny?” Tony asks as he follows her in, smiling as she leans forward to kiss him.

“Just thinking how I got exactly what I wanted.” she tells him.

  


_Later, after Tony's washed her hair with careful fingers and she's returned several favours in the shower, she forgets to check about the marks in the mirror – but it's apparent they're still there as she wanders into the common floor kitchen in clothes that_ _could be passably hers but_ _aren't and Clint gives a loud whoop. “Fucking_ _**finally** _ **,** _Cap!”_

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, this was my first time writing smut. Pointers and wording suggestions welcome, because that was a rollercoaster.)
> 
> If you want to give me a prompt, send me an ask at my **[tumblr](http://thecitylightshow.tumblr.com/)** , and I'll get to it soon!


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